."

"Was he?" asked Sam, curiously.

"Yes, we lived in a splendid mansion, and kept plenty of servants. I
was sent to an expensive school, and I did not dream of coming to
this."

Mr. Brown wiped his eyes with his coat-sleeve, as he thus revived the
memories of his early opulence.

"Did your father lose his money?" asked Sam, getting interested.

"He did indeed," said the stranger, with emotion. "It was in the panic
of 1837. Did you ever hear of it?"

"I guess not," said Sam, who was not very conversant with the
financial history of the country.

"My father became a bankrupt, and soon after died of grief," continued
the stranger. "I was called back from boarding-school, and thrown upon
the cold mercies of the world."

"That was hard on you," said Sam.

"It was, indeed, my young friend. I perceive that you have a
sympathetic heart. You can feel for the woes of others."

"Yes," said Sam, concluding that such an answer was expected.

"I am glad I befriended you. Have you also seen better days?"

"Well, I don't know," said Sam. "It's been pleasant enough to-day."

"I don't mean that. I mean, were you ever rich?"

"Not that I can remember," said Sam.

"Then you don't know what it is to be reduced from affluence to
poverty. It is a bitter experience."

"I should think so," said Sam, who felt a little tired of Clarence
Brown's reminiscences, and wondered how soon they would reach that
gentleman's house.

Meanwhile they had gone up Centre street, and turned into Leonard
street. It was not an attractive locality, nor were the odors that
reached Sam's nose very savory.

"This is where I live," said Mr. Brown, pausing before a large and
dilapidated-looking tenement house of discolored brick.

"You don't live here alone, do you?" inquired Sam, who was not used to
crowded tenement houses.

"Oh, no, I only occupy an humble room upstairs. Follow me, and I'll
lead you to it."

The staircase was dirty, and in keeping with the external appearance
of the house. The wall paper was torn off in places, and contrasted
very unfavorably with the neat house of Deacon Hopkins. Sam noticed
this, but he was tired and sleepy, and was not disposed to be
over-critical, as he followed Mr. Brown in silence to the fourth
floor.

CHAPTER XIII.

ROBBED IN HIS SLEEP.

Arrived at his destination Mr. Brown opened a door, and bade Sam
enter. It was rather dark, and it was not until his host lighted a
candle, that Sam cou